


I'm Dying

by mistysinkat



Series: Prompts and Drabbles [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood, Cullistair, Death, M/M, The Calling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistysinkat/pseuds/mistysinkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warden Commander Alistair has finally heard The Calling. He’s making his way to the Deep Roads to meet his fate, but before he goes, he has one last thing to say to Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Dying

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I've been remiss in posting the prompts and other such things I've done on Tumblr over here. So. Here you are. My apologies to anyone who follows me on Tumblr. You may have seen this already. >.>;

The darkness swept in from the side. Caught unawares, he was left breathless in its wake.

Not prepared for the relentless, hungry ferocity, the choking force of it brought Alistair to his knees. His hands hit the cold stone floor of his quarters as the air wheezed from his lungs. A cold sweat covered his already too-pale skin.

“No,” he begged, “I can’t… I’m not ready.”

But he would never be ready. He’d lived in fear of this day for 30 years, hadn’t he? Each morning, he woke up and took stock of his body and mind. Each morning, he’d felt fine. He was himself.

But not tonight. Tonight he would finally begin paying his dues; he would finally pay the death he owed.

Tonight, Warden Commander Alistair finally heard The Calling.

It was nothing like he expected, but it was everything he knew it would be. It was both the ominous stranger at the door and the comforting friend by his side. It felt foreign, but at the same time, it felt as much a part of him as his own right hand.

The Calling was inexorable. It didn’t care that he’d helped end a Blight. It didn’t care that he’d survived the Fade to save the Gray Wardens from themselves. It didn’t care that he’d climbed the ranks to become the Warden Commander seated at Weisshaupt. It didn’t care.

For it was  _owed_ , and it would not be denied.  

His breath came erratic and ragged as Alistair pulled himself up on shaking legs. He staggered to his desk and collapsed in his chair.

For a moment, he merely sat there and let the cacophonous notes of The Calling wash over him, undulating in waves like ripples through a dark pool.

One that would soon be still forever.

“Cullen,” he whispered. There was one last thing he knew he had to do before he lost himself entirely to the taint.

Trembling hands smoothed a fresh sheet of parchment and pulled a quill from the inkwell.

———————————–

“NO.”

Cullen crumpled the letter into an angry ball and hurled it across the room. He braced himself against his desk, desperately trying to maintain control even as his chest heaved and hollowed.

> Cullen,
> 
> We knew it would come. I’ve avoided it longer than most, but I said the same vows as everyone else. I made the same bargain the day I joined.
> 
> I’m being called. Maker, it’s stronger than I ever could have imagined. I can feel it under my skin. It’s a nasty thing, but still somehow familiar and right. I can’t explain it.
> 
> It doesn’t matter. I’m dying, Cullen. Even if I could fight The Calling, the taint will claim me as sure as the sky is blue and Fereldens love dogs.
> 
> I know we’ve never been keen on labeling whatever it is that we have. We’ve never declared ourselves for each other, yet I’ve never wanted another and I know neither have you. So, here at the end, I want you to know. I have to let you know.
> 
> It’s your face I will see when I go to the Deep Roads. As I meet whatever horrors await me down there, it’s your scarred smile and laughing eyes I’ll be thinking of to carry me through. Memories of the nights we spent together will keep me warm when all is cold and I am lost.
> 
> For me, there was only you. There was only ever you, so you’ll just have to forgive me this last bit of foolishness. I can’t let it end without telling you, even if it’s just in a letter.
> 
> I love you. I’ve always, always loved you.
> 
> And there it is. And now I have to go.
> 
> Yours always,
> 
> Alistair

He didn’t have to see the signature to know who had authored the note. Though it was crooked and shaky, the handwriting had been as familiar as his own.

The words, however, were wrong. All wrong.

But he knew. In the darkest corners of his heart, he knew it was the truth. He’d hoped, though. Maker, how he’d hoped that the rumors of Warden Commander Alistair’s immunity to the taint were true.

_I love you._

Anger, red and hateful, bubbled up from Cullen’s gut.

“How DARE you?!” Cullen snarled, “How dare you do this NOW?”

_I love you._

Sorrow, dark and empty, pushed the flash of anger out. When were they last together? How long had it been since he’d felt Alistair’s warmth? How many months had it been since the man’s brilliant smile made him blush like a child? When was the last time the warden’s hands and eyes and lips had made him melt and want and moan and beg for more? Too long. It had been too long. He struggled to remember what it felt like to be held.

Here in this violent sadness, it was impossible to remember what it felt like to be happy.  

_I love you._

“You didn’t give me a chance,” he whispered as the first tear made its way down his scarred face, “How can I tell you now?”

_Cullen, I’m dying._

The thought of the kindest person he’d ever known, the man perpetually full of life and laughter, fighting and dying alone in the dark reduced the soldier to sobs on the floor of his office.

“Not alone,” he promised.

—————————-

He was desperately holding on to the threads that held him together, frantically clutching the things that made him  _him_. Wave upon wave of darkspawn fell on him and broke against his sword.

Each time brought him closer to the inevitable. His shield had been broken and lost somewhere in the deep. His muscles ached and burned. He hadn’t slept in so very long. If the taint didn’t claim him, the fatigue surely would. With each opponent, he found it harder and harder to lift his weapon.

Another attack.

“I am Alistair,” he grunted as he ran his sword through the darkspawn.

Another attack.

“I have the blood of kings running in my veins.”

Another attack.

“I helped end the last blight.”

Another attack.

“I saved the wardens.”

Another attack.

“I had  _him_  in my arms and in my heart.”

Another attack.

“I am Alistair.”

He felt himself falling further and further away into the abyss. He was losing his mind to the taint even as he recited his mantra over and over.

The attacks ceased. He watched with wary, bloodshot eyes as the darkspawn regrouped. Alistair took a deep breath and leaned against the tunnel walls.

Blood dripped freely from open wounds. He watched it leaking out from him, apathetic to the state of his body now. He propped his sword against the wall. His hands had held it for so long, they were claws, incapable now of fully opening. Dull eyes considered the battered palms. Blisters had formed and broken and reformed. Both hands were a weeping mess of raw, angry flesh.

He didn’t care. The darkspawn were coming for him again. They’d waited him out.

“Well, I suppose it’s got to end somehow,” Alistair laughed dryly as he fell to his knees. His eyes were closed and relief washed over his exhausted face. He summoned an image to mind – what he wanted to be the last thing he saw in this life.

Golden eyes and hair. Scarred lips. Perpetual stubble. Lines from smiling and lines from sorrow. Blushing cheeks and bashful grins. Stuttering words and shy kisses. Hard will and soft heart.

“Cullen,” came the broken whisper as he felt the blade pierce his chest, cold iron spilling warm blood.

He smiled as he felt everything blur. The Calling was already fading, making it easier to be himself at the end. All he had to do now was let himself float away. 

A gentle kiss brought him falling back. Eyes pale with the taint snapped open. A wordless wail of horror escaped his lips.

Cullen.

Not an image. Not in his mind. There. Kneeling with him, arms circled around him tightly.

Cullen.

Tears running down his face. Smiling through the pain. Blood leaving a vivid trail down his chin. Darkspawn sword through his chest, too.

Cullen.

Just as doomed as he was now. Just as dead.

“Why?” Alistair croaked, mind reeling in horror, “Why, Maker damn you, why?!”

“For me, there is only you,” came the simple reply, “I love you.”

Alistair smiled as the world lost its light. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Cullen that he was glad to have met him. He wanted to tell him that he was a better man for having known him. He wanted to tell him that the time they spent together had been the happiest of his life.

There was no time for any of that, though.

“… and I love you,” was all he could manage.

Alistair pressed his cold lips against Cullen’s and thought “in this lifetime and the next.”

And then both men fell, still wrapped up in each other’s arms, and all was dark and quiet in the deep. 


End file.
